


The Scorpion King and the Sorcerer

by Slayer_of_Destiny



Series: Harry Potter Crossovers [17]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Scorpion King (2002)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25308748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slayer_of_Destiny/pseuds/Slayer_of_Destiny
Summary: Mathayus is hired to kill Memnon's Sorceress, but instead, he finds a Sorcerer. Events unravel and he finds that his destiny may be entwined with that of this green eyed, beautiful Sorcerer who has been through a lot, and yet they still have more to go through together. Harry Potter/The Scorpion King SLASH
Relationships: Mathayus/Harry Potter
Series: Harry Potter Crossovers [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680352
Comments: 21
Kudos: 280





	The Scorpion King and the Sorcerer

"You have been betrayed Mathayus," The words baffled the assassin he gazed into the beautiful gem green eyes of the Sorcerer in front of him. Sorcerer not Sorceress that he had been sent after. He did not seem concerned with the fact that there was a large powerful arrow pointed right at him.

He was dressed like no one that Mathayus had ever seen before, a large heavy golden cape rested upon his shoulders and swept behind him as he turned fully to face Mathayus. The collar of the cape was high and stiff, rising up from the Sorcerer's shoulders, almost surrounding and seeming to swallow the man, while also shading his face slightly and adding to the feeling of mystery about him. This along with the wide shoulders of the cape, heavily decorated in expensive and exotic feathers served to make him seem smaller and more delicate, especially considering that what he was wearing under the cloak was very little.

The top he was wearing was golden, made up of what had to be hundreds of small diamond-shaped pieces of gold, no bigger than an arrowhead, each piece catching glimmeringly in the firelight, and tinkling brightly with every breath that the man wearing it took. It barely covered the man, just falling to cover his nipples, making sure to leave the golden tanned skin of his chest and flat, muscled stomach exposed to the eye.

Cascading over his chest and contrasting with the gold was ebony black long hair, not thick and heavy like his own long hair, but silky and shining in the light. It fell down to his waist, and Mathayus was able to see hints of red within the darkness of the onyx of his shadowy hair. Keeping it back from his face was a delicate golden diadem resting on his brow, and came to a glittering point with a small bead resting perfectly between those enchanting green eyes, making him seem even more regal.

Though he did not seem to be of any of the desert people that Mathayus recognised, he did not fit with any of them, instead, he was more like those further from home, those people that you had to sail to reach with fair skin, and biting weather, those with light eyes and hair.

He was not from here, and Mathayus could not help the brief flash of curiosity as to how he had come to be standing in Memnon's tent.

Everything about him said that he was designed to be shown off. To show off his beauty, and his exotic looks. He was dressed to be able to see at a glance that he was other and that he had a power unlike others. He had a natural grace that Mathayus had glimpsed that seemed to add to the image that had been created for him with his clothing.

But there was something in those eyes and a flicker over the delicate male face that did not fit with the way he was dressed. Mathayus almost wanted to say a hint of sadness, but what did he have to be sad about when he was clad from head to toe in gold, clearly well looked after and respected?

He did not seem to show any fear of having an arrow aimed right at him by an assassin.

"You know my name?" Mathayus frowned a little, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. His instincts had been telling him that this wasn't going to be an easy mission from the start.

The Akkadian's eyes scanned over the delicate body, looking closely at the man who apparently knew that he was here to kill him, knew who he was, and was not running, or hiding or shouting in fear for the guards who were right outside the tent.

His golden tanned stomach was muscled showing that he was an active person, though with the amount of money that Memnon had clearly spent on bedecking his Sorcerer he guessed that he would not want him in anything but perfect condition.

He wore a golden belt around his waist made of the same golden diamond links, shaped perfectly to his body to fall to the centre of his stomach, the sheer purple fabric under the belt and floating down to the Sorcerer's knee only just covered the man from view, giving just enough of a hint to make you stare, but not allowing that last look, a tease, knowing that you could look upon the beauty of this man, but knowing as well that that beauty wasn't for you.

Finishing the image of this walking god was the golden jewellery decorated his body, enhancing and bedecking him at the same time. Dangling golden earrings fell from his ears in a style that was more feminine than masculine. A thick, pure golden choker sat around his throat, with golden beads spilling from it each holding a sparkling emerald that could not match the green of his eyes, eyes that watched him intently as he shifted in place, eyes watching him rake his eyes over his body, taking him in.

There was so much gold on his body that Mathayus was sure that it could feed an entire village for a lifetime. Beautifully carved golden bracelet sat around his wrists, golden links trickling down to connect to rings on each finger and flowing down to finish with gold covering the tips of his fingers.

Memnon clearly thought a lot about this man, he clearly thought of him as someone highly important to him to show such favouritism and dress him so. Mathayus could see why the rebels wanted him dead, whether he truly had the sight or not, losing him would be a blow to the Tyrant's side.

"And why you are here," The musical, strangely accented voice of the Sorcerer said softly, pulling the Akkadian from his thoughts.

A moment seemed to hang between them for an age as they stared at each other, something in the Sorcerer's eyes seemed to say that he was hoping that Mathayus would take the shot. He did not flinch when the arrow was suddenly released, turning only when it hit the body of the soldier behind the Sorcerer.

Mathayus dropped his bow and arrow and with frightening precision drew his heavy broadsword and axe as though they weighed nothing, quickly swinging into action to take on the soldiers that came at him from seemingly all sides of the tent, dancing around the fire in the centre of the tent.

He could feel the eyes of the Sorcerer on him as he twisted his broadsword in his hands before delivering a death blow to the soldier that he had dropped to the floor. Spinning already ready for whatever else would come.

But before he could do anything Memnon's bodyguards were spilling into the tent, one of them managing to pin him to the wooden pillar in the tent like an animal by a fork pinning his neck. He grunted and bared his teeth at them angrily, fighting as they tied his hands behind his back and around the pillar, effectively pinning him.

And then he heard a drawl, arrogance and slyness smothering every word. "A living, breathing Akkadian, this is a rare pleasure."

He turned to look, and saw the man that was causing so much fuss, the man that was committing genocide on any who dared to stand up to him. In reality, the reason he was here. This was the man that the rebels wished to kill, but they were sure that they needed the Sorcerer, or Sorceress as they had thought, out the way first.

He watched the man sweep into the tent with all the knowledge that he was powerful and people feared him swirling around him like the golden cape the Sorcerer was draped in. He came right up to Mathayus' face, so certain in his own power and safety.

"I hear that you train yourself to bear great pain, you must teach me this, if you live long enough," The man, Memnon taunted. Spitting in his face, proving even in a small way that he was not as feared, not as untouchable, as he thought was well worth the backhand that may as well have been a tickle to Mathayus' ribs for some of the things that he had been through in the past.

He strained again his binds, desperate to show this little worm what a real warrior was, even as he walked away and his men tied a rope around Mathayus' neck, just on the side of too tight so that air was thin, and they could withdraw the fork from around his neck.

"Not looking so full of yourself now, are you assassin," Came a voice that the Akkadian vaguely recognised, he turned incredulously to see Prince Takmet walking into the tent looking smug and arrogant.

"You! You betrayed your own father!" Mathayus spat in disbelief, the betrayal of kin was...alien to him and his people.

"Yes, he was very shocked, you can tell by the look on his face," Takmet smirked as he withdrew the head of King Pheron from the sack he was carrying. "By my father's head, I pledge my allegiance," The traitor prince threw the head down at Memnon's feet with a soft thud, making Mathayus strain even more at his bonds.

"You have proven your loyalty to me, Takmet" Memnon drawled, clearly pleased by the betrayal, the patricide, regicide that had been committed in his name.

"This one still lives," The soldier interrupted before anything else could be said, and to Mathayus' horror, he watched his brother being dragged into the tent, wounded but still clearly alive, making him pick up his struggling even more, his heart thundering in his chest, his breath becoming more shallow as a sick feeling washed over him.

His extra struggling caught Memnon's attention and with a smirk he walked over to Mathayus, withdrawing one of his daggers and examining it pointedly slowly, twirling it in a way that he made sure caught the firelight.

Mathayus stared into his eyes, trying to will him not to do what he knew was about to happen, trying to threaten him not to, trying to warn him not to. "Beautiful," Memnon mocked. "Bring him to me,"

Mathayus struggled furiously against his bonds, desperate to stop what was about to happen, not caring what happened to him, or willing to die with his brother, but he could not just stand here and watch this happen! He cried out in pain as his captors tightened the ropes around him, but still, he struggled.

"Mathayus," The voice he knew so well spoke into the tent, tight with pain, soft with acceptance of what was about to happen to him as Memnon placed his brother's dagger at his throat. His beloved older brother was looking at him gently, lovingly, the man who had practically raised him as brave as he ever was.

Mathayus carried on straining even as he looked into Jesup's eyes, feeling tears filling his own, burning as they fought to be let free.

"Mathayus!" Jesup said even stronger, stilling his younger brother's struggles. "Live free!" He said with all the power and strength of their people filling his voice.

"Die well, my brother," Mathayus managed to say through the lump in his throat, not looking away until Memnon brutally slit his brother's throat, refusing to allow anything but the love in his eyes to be the last thing his brother saw.

And the promise of his revenge.

He strained so hard against the ropes around him he choked himself, his eyes bulging, desperate to reach out for his brother, to touch him and ease him through his last gasping moments.

"So! How shall this one die?!" Memnon mocked, clearly amused and proud of himself. Mathayus prepared himself for the dagger to sink into his body, it was probably going to be slow, the dying Akkadian wouldn't have been fun for the Tyrant, but an alive one...Mathayus knew that this sick, evil man would have fun taking him apart.

But then the Sorcerer spoke up for the first time since the soldiers had entered, sweeping forward to Memnon's side. There was something different about his face, as though he were wearing a mask of neutrality, his green eyes blank and giving nothing away as he looked at Memnon when the tyrant turned to him.

"He shall not die tonight!"

"Really? We shall see," Memnon smirked as he turned to Mathayus and went to cut him with the dagger that still dripped with his brother's blood.

"Nor shall he die by your hand, or any hand you command," The Sorcerer said lowly, so little inflection in his tone, but it said everything. He seemed unconcerned as his words stopped Memnon, but they held the power to make the mad man step away from Mathayus and swagger towards him.

"You have seen this in a vision?" Memnon asked, and Mathayus watched the lust creep over his face as he looked over the displayed body of the Sorcerer before he became curious.

"To ignore this would bring great misfortune," Mathayus frowned in confusion at the words clearly meant to stop him from being killed, why he could not work out, especially considering he had been here to kill him, and the sorcerer knew this, had said that he knew this. "The Gods show him favour on this night,"

"Just the gods?" Memnon grit out angrily, his stance becoming challenging and angry in a blink. There was something, a flash of fear that went through the Sorcerer at the accusation, but he did not back down either, maintaining eye contact with the tyrant, even as his full red lips pursed just a little in his fear.

When the Sorcerer did not back down Memnon hissed his breath through his teeth, clearly fighting down his anger. Mathayus guessed that had anyone else challenged him like that, stopped him, they would have been dead in a heartbeat, no matter who they were.

But this Sorcerer did have a power over him. Memnon truly believed in his power of sight, and would now risk going against the Sorcerer's words and risk the warning being true. This showed when he grit his teeth and turned away from the Sorcerer, turning to Mathayus again, this time with mock cheer and arrogance.

"A puzzle then!" Memnon called into the tent, his breath tighter with his anger as Mathayus struggled almost absently against his bonds, baffled as to what was happening. "How to kill you without using my hand, or any hand I command,"

That was the last thing that the Akkadian remembered before the dick that had used the fork to pin him swung at him, and everything went dark.


End file.
